


Of Golden Sands and Crystal Brooks

by PhoenixTalon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-04 19:05:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/714012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixTalon/pseuds/PhoenixTalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold is not looking forward to his son Neal's impending wedding with Emma Nolan, but things change when he meets their wedding planner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

If there was one thing Gold hated, it was weddings.

To be perfectly honest, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with Neal’s choice of bride—Emma Nolan had been Neal’s accomplice since high school, his partner in crime during every stage of rebellion. He’d rather hoped that at some point during Neal and Emma’s somewhat tumultuous relationship, his son would outgrow the girl, but that didn’t seem to be an option anymore.

His son had informed him that he was engaged with a rather sharp glint in his eye, as if daring to voice his disapproval. Gold carefully concealed his emotions and nodded coolly. 

Neal’s wedding wasn’t going to be elaborate—he and Emma had both agreed on keeping things simple. Still, Emma was clueless on how to arrange or organize anything so Neal suggested hiring a wedding planner. 

Gold couldn’t care less. His job was to stand with a fixed smile during the wedding, probably drink a lot, wonder where on earth the time had gone, and drink some more. 

On the first Sunday of his son’s engagement, Gold was told to meet Neal, Emma, and her parents at the local cafe where they would all hammer out a wedding date with the wedding planner. As he walked in, his eyes immediately found Emma, who was bent over a planner with a short brunette. Neal and Emma’s parents were nowhere to be seen. 

“Miss Nolan?” Gold asked her formally—he’d known her for two years and but the two of them were still not comfortable enough with each other to refer to each other by their Christian names. 

“Hey, Mr. Gold,” Emma lifted her head, greeting him with a tired smile. “Neal’s running late—he’s picking up my parents and they got caught in a traffic jam.”

Wonderful. So he would be spending an awkward amount of time alone with his future daughter-in-law. Gold nodded self-consciously. 

“Oh, and this is Belle French, she’s the wedding planner.” Emma gestured towards the brunette.

“Hello,” Belle looked up at him with a smile and something in Gold’s stomach clenched. Belle French was beautiful. She had luscious, long chestnut curls and intensely blue eyes. Gold felt his palms sweat around his cane as he gazed at her small, velvety mouth and took in her ivory skin. She wore a pretty, short blue lacy dress and seemed to have a natural grace and ease that most women envied.

“Miss French,” He cleared his throat, shoving the feelings away. He extended his palm. “It’s good to meet you.” 

“Good to meet you too,” She chirped. “Have a seat.” She gestured towards the seat next to her and Gold hesitated, feeling a sudden embarrassment at the prospect of sitting near her. He wasn’t sure why—she was lovely, of course, but he’d seen lovely women before. 

“Oh, you forgot to order,” Emma said suddenly as Gold uncomfortably sat next to Belle. “I’ll get it. Earl grey tea and ham on rye?” 

“Yes,” Gold said, rather startled that his future daughter-in-law knew him well enough to anticipate his orders. Emma nodded and went to the counter. 

“So,” Belle smiled at him comfortably. “Are you excited about the wedding?” 

“Er…” He supposed the truth wasn’t appropriate. “I’m glad Neal’s happy.” 

“Neal’s very sweet,” Belle agreed. “Though I wish he told me how handsome his father was.” She grinned at him again and Gold choked on the water he’d been sipping. 

“Here you go,” Emma returned, placing the tea before Gold while he tried to recover his wits. Immediately, ever the professional, Belle went back to their planner, discussing the best possible dates. Had she…had she actually tried to flirt with him? It was impossible. No woman had shown even the slightest interest in him since Mindy…

Still, he couldn’t help but notice the mischievous corners of Belle’s lovely mouth tilt upward as he stared at her in wonder and shock.

“So,” Belle cleared her throat. “Emma told me that she was looking at a fall wedding—do you think you’d be able to do that, Mr. Gold?” 

It was currently May, so that gave him plenty of time. “I’m sure,” He assured them and Emma smiled vaguely. 

“Is eighteen months too young for a ring-bearer?” Emma wondered aloud. Gold gave a half smile at that. Neal had gotten Emma pregnant about two years ago and their little boy, Henry, had been the result. It had caused a great deal of unnecessary drama that was thankfully resolved—and despite Gold’s displeasure at being a grandfather, Henry was a charming little thing that he secretly adored. The boy would be spoiled rotten if Gold had anything to say about it.

“If he had help, I’m sure he could do it,” Belle affirmed. “That’d be a lovely memory for him.” 

“Assuming he doesn’t swallow the ring,” Gold remarked dryly and Belle giggled while Emma threw him a disparaging look. 

The doors of the café opened and Gold stiffened to see his son lead the Nolans inside. He’d met the Nolans once or twice—Mary Margaret Nolan was a pretty woman, with a short mop of dark hair in her mid-forties. David Nolan was about a foot taller and liked Neal about as well as Gold liked Emma. Still, similarly to Gold, he had seemingly resigned himself to their fate somewhere around Emma’s pregnancy. 

“Sorry,” Neal said apologetically, scooting out extra chairs for the Nolans. “Traffic was a bitch.” 

“Where’s Henry?” Emma asked. “I thought you were bringing him.”

“He was feeling kind of crabby today, so I called Ruby and she said she’d watch him,” Neal reported. “Love the kid, but we gotta at least hammer out the iron details with less distraction.” 

“All right,” Emma said agreeably. “So what I was just telling your dad—what do you think about an autumn wedding?” 

“Sounds fine with me,” Neal shrugged uncaringly. 

“Isn’t that cutting it a little close? Summer will be over before you know it!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. She thought for a moment.

“You should have it at our church,” Mary Margaret said eagerly. “And have the pastor who baptized you officiate! That’d be so sweet!” David nodded in   
approval. 

Emma grimaced. “If we have it at our church, that means we’ll have to invite the entire congregation. Neal and I wanted to keep it small.” 

“But it’s your wedding,” Mary Margaret persisted. “It should be a celebration! A huge celebration!”   
Emma looked irritated and Gold had had enough. “Mr. and Mrs. Nolan,” He interrupted politely. “You two haven’t ordered. Could I order for you? I want to refill my tea.” 

Mary Margaret blinked at him. “Um—sure. I’ll just have a chai latte and a cobb salad.” 

“Roast beef sandwich for me with a coke,” David requested and Gold nodded curtly, standing up and walking to the counter. 

He could think about a thousand places he’d rather be than hearing his soon-to-become family bicker over wedding locales.   
Weddings were stressful. It had been a good many years since his marriage to Mindy, and the tension the wedding planning had caused had not been fun. It was all a bloody waste, in any case. What was the point in spending so much time and effort on an archaic institution that was almost certainly doomed to failure? 

“Family giving you a headache?”

He jumped. Belle French was at his elbow with a suppressed smile. 

“Shouldn’t you be helping them?” Gold cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“My job is to provide them the options,” Belle explained cheerfully. “And then watch with amusement as they fight it out. But I assume it got a little wearing on you, huh?” 

He glanced at her, letting out a little cough. “I’m not—not overly fond of weddings,” Gold confessed. 

“They can be stressful,” Belle acknowledged, ordering an earl gray tea from the cashier. “But hopefully I can alleviate that as much as I can.”

“I doubt it,” Gold said dryly. “Not with this family.” 

She looked interested, taking her tea but making no move to go back to the table. “How so?”

Gold sighed. “We have…a complicated history, let’s put it that way,” He said falteringly. He wasn’t sure why he felt relaxed enough to tell the wedding planner this, but somehow, it seemed comfortable. 

“Because of Henry?” Belle guessed. “Emma told me he wasn’t planned.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Henry was the least of our problems.” 

“Oh?” Belle sipped her tea, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re awfully nosy for a wedding planner,” Gold informed her, but with less of his usual bite. 

“You’re awfully young for a grandfather,” She returned and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the false compliment. 

“Not a word used to describe me,” He replied and to his slight disappointment, the plates arrived. He picked both of them up and walked over to the table, placing them before the Nolans. 

“So mom’s bullied us into a church wedding,” Emma said sourly to Belle. “But we’re still keeping it small. Fifty people tops. Just immediate family and a few friends.” 

Belle scribbled something down in her planner. “And we’re agreed October 3rd is the best date?” 

“Yeah,” Neal nodded in agreement and Gold made a mental note to add it to his own planner. At least it was far enough away for him to get used to the idea. 

“So what do we need to do now?” Emma asked Belle.

“Well,” Belle considered thoughtfully, sucking the tip of her pen. Gold shifted uncomfortably, looking away.

“You ought to start looking for dresses right away,” Belle said decisively. “Five months may seem a ways away, but it’ll sneak up on you. I’ll call your church tomorrow and set the date. Start thinking about a venue for the reception, where you want to order your cake, order invitations, figure out what flowers you want and where. Emma, you still haven’t given me a set list of bridesmaids and I need a list from you, Neal, of groomsman. And you should decide these things fairly quickly so we can get the ball rolling.” 

The rest of them started jumping in, mentioning different dates they could set appointments to complete each task. Gold knew he had nothing to contribute, so he stared out the window, feeling very bored. Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at Belle.

Initially, he’d been taken aback by her beauty. She seemed to have a light about her, an almost warmth, as if she created sunlight where she went. He shook his head briskly—he was getting overly fanciful about someone he didn’t even know. Sure, she might be flirtatious, might be friendly—wasn’t Mindy the same way? He needed to keep his guard up. 

“That sound okay, Dad?” 

Gold snapped out of his daze. “What?”

“Next week,” Neal repeated himself. “Cake tasting. Emma refuses to have anything aside from vanilla—I need backup.” 

Gold was not overly fond of sweets, but his son was offering him a chance to spend time together with his fiancée. Considering all the resentment and anger in the past, Gold knew he had to take this chance.

“All right,” He agreed.

XXXX

A week later, as he drove to the local bakery, his cell phone rang. Gold glanced at the caller ID and gave a faint smile, answering.

“I’m almost there, Neal,” He assured him. 

“Yeah, about that,” Neal coughed. “Listen—Henry’s got a fever and Emma’s sort of freaking out about it. Can you just go without us?” 

Gold swallowed the disappointment. “You want me to pick out your wedding cake without you?” He asked dryly. “You know I don’t like sweet things.”

“Belle will be there, she’ll help,” Neal said hurriedly, the sound of a baby’s wailing overwhelming his voice.

The idea of being alone in a wedding cake bakery with Belle French made Gold’s stomach clench. “Can’t you just reschedule?” 

“I don’t really care what cake we get, just as long as it’s not vanilla,” Neal was sounding truly frazzled as the baby’s screams just got louder. “And it’s one more thing to check off our to-do list. Just pick something and you can go home.” 

The phone call ended and Gold stared at his cell in disbelief. Apparently he was going to have to deal with Belle French whether he liked it or not.


	2. Cake Tasting

The bakery was a revolting place, painted entirely in pastels, with nauseating paintings of flowers and weddings hanging everywhere. Gold’s eyes narrowed as he looked around, finding the bakery nearly empty, excepting a few stragglers sampling a bundt cake. 

The door opened and Belle French walked in, greeting him with a warm smile. She looked lovely today—wearing a butter yellow dress and a bright blue headband that kept her dark curls out of her face. 

“Hello,” Belle said a bit breathlessly. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Emma just called me. Poor baby—I’m sure he’s fine.”

Gold nodded, feeling his throat constrict. Before he could come up with anything to say, an elderly lady in a marigold-printed apron joined them. 

“Are you Neal and Emma?” She asked, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. 

Gold opened his mouth to correct her but Belle interrupted. 

“Yes, we are,” She beamed at the elderly lady, and to Gold’s shock, she took his elbow. “You must be Francine. We’re very much looking forward to picking out our wedding cake!” 

“Of course you are,” Francine giggled girlishly. “You just pick out a table, and I’ll bring out the first samples! Would you like anything to drink?” 

“Earl grey tea, please,” Belle requested. “And you, darling?” She smiled mischievously at Gold who was trying to figure out what just happened.

“The same,” He managed to rasp out and Francine nodded eagerly before disappearing into the back. 

Immediately, Gold whirled towards Belle, who had released his arm and was calmly sitting down, wrapping her cloth-purse around her chair. 

“What was—” He started and she smiled in understanding.

“If we’d told her that Neal and Emma had outsourced cake-tasting to us, she would’ve been offended. If she thinks we’re the happy couple in love, she’ll bring out the best cakes,” She explained contentedly pulling out her planner and writing something down. 

Gold digested this. “I suppose…that makes sense,” He said reluctantly, taking a seat across from her. 

Belle flashed him a smile. “Trust me, I’ve been in this business to know my way around. Sometimes subterfuge is necessary.” 

“How long have you been doing this?” He found himself asking curiously. 

She thought a moment. “Around eight years,” She finally confirmed, taking a sip of water. “I’m lucky that I get to do something I love for a living.” 

Gold snorted at that comment and she sniggered a little.

“What, is it that hard to believe I love what I do?” Belle wanted to know, crossing her arms. 

“I can’t believe anyone would undergo the stresses of planning a wedding without a hefty compensation,” He allowed. “But actively enjoy it? I do find that hard to believe.” 

Belle laughed. She considered his words, a soft look growing on her face. “I believe in marriage. And I believe in its celebration—it’s the big kick-start to the main event. I believe in making a day so wonderful, so special, that during those hard times that marriage inevitably brings, that couple can look back and remember why they fell in love in the first place.” She smiled at him again and Gold watched her. 

“Are you…are you married?” He asked hesitantly, feeling foolish for how he wanted the question answered. 

Belle’s expression fell a little as she glanced down at her bare hands. “I’m engaged,” She said hesitantly. “It’s…been a long engagement.” 

Gold hated how his stomach clenched at her reply. Of course she was engaged, why should he think any differently? She was beautiful, charming, whip-smart—it should come as no surprise that some young lad had snatched her up. Nevertheless, it made him grind his teeth a little. 

But…his brow furrowed. Belle wore no engagement ring. Surely a wedding planner of all people would proudly display an engagement ring.

“Here we are!” Francine bustled out, pushing a rolling table filled to the brim with different slices of cake. “My very best for the happy couple!” 

Gold caught Belle’s eye at the latter comment and she smirked, winking. 

“These look amazing, Francine,” Belle said brightly, picking up a fork, and scooping a bit off the first plate. “What’s this?”

“Chocolate almond, with chocolate ganache and mocha buttercream,” Francine said proudly. “One of my favorites.” 

“Ooh, I love mocha,” Belle replied enthusiastically. Gold watched as her soft, velvety lips closed over her fork. She chewed thoughtfully. 

“Delicious,” Belle said decidedly, licking her lips. “Want a bite?” She offered her fork to him.

Gold swallowed hard and carefully took her fork, feeling his stomach leap a little at the brush of her fingers. He had never been much for sweets, no, but suddenly the idea of dutifully eating whatever piece of cake Belle shared with him seemed like a fine notion. 

He couldn’t remember the taste of the cake, his eyes were too intently focused on Belle’s as he chewed, wondering if he was imagining the slight pink in her cheeks. Nevertheless, decorum required him to swallow and murmur out, “A possibility.” 

“And this,” Francine placed another slice before them. “This is lemon cake, with lemon curd and vanilla buttercream.”

Belle took a bite. “Mmm,” She closed her eyes in ecstasy. “You know darling, I am a big fan of buttercream...and that mocha buttercream was to die for.” 

Gold was of the opinion that the buttercream would be better served across Belle’s lovely skin, but resisted the temptation to remark upon it. “Anything you want,” He put in, a bit hoarsely. 

“If you like the buttercream,” Francine said eagerly. “You really must try the dark chocolate strawberry swirl with praline buttercream. It’s my personal favorite!” 

Belle’s eyes gleamed. “I love dark chocoate,” She sighed, taking the fork. “I like things that are bitterly sweet.” A secretive smile lit up her face and Gold wondered at her words. 

But Francine was right, the dark chocolate strawberry swirl was the best, the sweet tang of the strawberries a perfect counter to the smoky chocolate. The praline buttercream set everything off perfectly, though it was hard to register such thoughts as he watched Belle contentedly lick every trace of frosting off her fork. 

“I think your favorite is just what we need, Francine,” Belle smiled at the elderly lady. “It’s unique and absolutely delicious.” 

“An excellent choice, Emma!” Francine crowed and Gold shifted uncomfortably. “Do you have a special design in mind?” 

“Nothing super specific, though Neal and I do have a penchant for swans,” Belle lied smoothly. “If that could be the theme—”

“Wonderful!” Francine bobbed her head excitedly. “We can certainly manage that.”

“Excellent,” Belle pulled out her battered planner and ripped out a small piece of paper. “If we can have it by this date, that would be amazing.”

****

As they exited the bakery, Belle stretched a little. 

“Well,” She said with a smile. “That didn’t take nearly as long as I thought it would. Shall we get a bite to eat? There’s a lunch truck nearby. It’s a beautiful day, we could eat on a bench.” 

Gold gazed at her with some trepidation. “You’re not…expected anywhere else?” He asked slowly, thinking of her engagement. 

Belle’s smile faltered a little. “No…not at the moment,” She replied carefully and his eyebrow rose. There was something about this engagement she was keeping from him—though he couldn’t imagine what. 

“Very well,” Gold cleared his throat. “Lunch sounds like a fine idea.” In truth, he had absolutely no time for lunch, but he was willing to turn off his phone and ignore business affairs in exchange for Belle’s company. 

The lunch truck served gyros—perhaps not the finest cuisine, but they were tasty and filling. Belle chose a bench that overlooked a nearby park, contentedly munching her gyro as Gold awkwardly joined her. 

“So,” Belle took a sip of her iced tea. “Emma said that you hate her.”

Gold chewed thoughtfully. “It’s hard to hate the mother of your grandson,” He said finally, observing Belle’s reaction carefully. 

But the reminder of his age didn’t seem to faze her. “But I’m guessing she’s not your favorite person?” 

Gold coughed a little. “Her family and my family have had—difficulties over the years.” 

“You didn’t approve of her,” Belle guessed. “At the beginning anyway.” 

He gave her a sideways smile. “It’s hard to approve of the accomplice on my son’s various acts of rebellion,” He remarked, taking another bite of his gyro. “When Neal totaled my ’66 Corvette when he was sixteen, Emma was in the passenger seat. When Neal cut school, Emma always accompanied him. If I woke up in the middle of the night and found my son’s bedroom empty, I could be reasonably certain that Emma Nolan’s bedroom would be empty as well.” 

Belle laughed. “So they were partners in crime together when they were teenagers,” She took another sip of iced tea. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” 

“Needless to say,” Gold continued, deciding to ignore how relaxed he felt around her. “I was inclined to blame Emma for my charming son’s behavior and the Nolans were inclined to blame Neal for her bad behavior. We were not very pleasant with each other—naturally, our enmity only made Neal and Emma want to be together more.” 

“Well, there’s nothing more tempting to teenagers than living out their own Romeo and Juliet fantasy,” Belle remarked and Gold chuckled in response. “You should count yourself lucky that they will have a better ending.” 

“Well, let’s hope so,” Gold humored her. 

“Ah, I forgot,” Her eyes sparkled. “You’re not a big believer in marriage, right?” 

“Experience has taught me better than to believe in idealistic fantasies,” He snorted. The biting comment should’ve offended her, but if anything, Belle just looked more amused. 

“Careful, Mr. Gold,” She said idly, finishing off the rest of her gyro. “That reeks of bitterness.” 

Gold couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Perhaps so,” He acknowledged. “My memories of Neal’s mother are not exactly pleasant.” 

“And you’ve never…thought of getting married again?” Belle questioned, her eyes filled with sympathy. 

He was quiet for a long moment. “Once,” Gold replied slowly. “I was engaged. I thought—but it wasn’t real.” He concentrated his attentions on the last bit of his own gyro. He didn’t want to think about Cora right now. 

“I’m sorry,” Belle said quietly. She dared to close her small palm over his and squeeze it gently. 

Gold stared at her pale hand for a long while before coming to his senses. “And what about you?” He cleared his throat. “You’re engaged. Do you hire someone else to plan your wedding or do you do it yourself?”

Again, that strange look fell over her usual cheerful face. She looked almost downcast at the mention of her engagement. 

“I haven’t thought about it,” Belle said carefully. “I should probably get going. It was nice eating lunch with you, Mr. Gold. I’ll let Emma and Neal know what we’ve decided.” She stood briskly, wiping the crumbs from her dress. Gold watched her helplessly, feeling as though he’d upset her, though he couldn’t fathom the reason why. 

“I’ll see you later,” Belle gave him a cheery wave and a tight smile that didn’t meet her eyes. He watched her walk away, wondering what he’d done wrong.


	3. Fittings

Whatever reservations Gold had about his son’s choice of bride and her family, he bore no ill will towards Henry. This wasn’t to say he was exactly pleased about suddenly finding himself a grandfather, something he didn’t think he’d have to worry about for another ten years or so—but nonetheless, when Henry wasn’t being fussy, he was the sweetest baby in the world and Gold was happy to baby-sit. 

“Seriously Dad, you’re a lifesaver,” Neal said gratefully as he let his father into the flat. “Emma’s got that dress-fitting with her mom and I have a deadline—I need some quiet, or I’ll never get this chapter done.” He glanced at his son ruefully, who appeared to be narrating in a language of his own creation, playing with building blocks in his play pen. 

“It’s not a problem,” Gold assured him. He’d rearranged his entire day and cancelled several meetings, but that was a small price to pay to spend time with his grandson and do Neal and Emma a favor. 

Neal glanced at his phone. “Okay, I’m bouncing,” He kissed the top of Henry’s head, who chattered in response, and flew out the door. Gold then turned towards Henry. 

“So,” He said formally to the boy. “I hear you’ve been quite a trial to your parents as of late, and you haven’t even hit your terrible twos. You’re ahead of schedule.”

Henry gazed up at him and giggled. His hands rose up, reaching for him. “Up!” Henry pleaded. “Up!”

Gold chuckled to himself, indulging the toddler and lifting him up. Henry buried his face in Gold’s soft shirt and Gold sighed. Henry still had that sweet, fresh baby smell and he brought back memories of holding Neal this way. 

“You’re lucky you’re so charming,” Gold informed the boy who cooed in response, grasping his nose curiously. Gold bared his teeth, pretending to bite the hand, sending Henry into hysterical giggles. 

He settled them both on the couch, selecting a stray picture book to read to him. It was some revolting story about a yellow duck that had lost its rain boots, but his grandson seemed to enjoy it, growling at the pages that displayed rabbits. 

Henry had just fallen asleep in Gold’s lap, drooling profusely on his best tie, when Gold heard the door open. He frowned—it was far too early for Emma or Neal to be home, though he waited for Neal’s telltale holler or Emma’s familiar scuffs. Instead, he heard the clack of high heels against the linoleum. 

Emma never wore heels. It’d be rather peculiar for a burglar to wear high heels on a heist, but nevertheless, Gold was wary. He gently lay Henry down on the couch before he stood, walking out of the living room and into the foyer—nearly running headlong into Belle French.

“Oh!” Belle said, looking startled, her face uncomfortably close to his. “You scared me.”

“Likewise, dearie,” He replied, carefully stepping away from her. “I didn’t realize you had a key.”

Belle held up a key ring. “I don’t, but Emma lent me hers. She forgot her wedding planner binder here and asked me to come fetch it for her. She’s trying on dresses right now. I’m sorry to intrude.” 

“Not at all,” Gold assured her, ushering her into the living room. “I was just watching Henry. He got a bit tired of the book.” Henry had awakened and was currently examining his stuffed Totoro toy, his little fist tightly grasping its ear. He squealed at Belle’s appearance.

“Aw!” Belle sighed, going over to Henry and picking him up. “He’s such a sweet little thing!”

“You like children?” He asked curiously, finding her answer suddenly important.

“Very much,” Belle kissed Henry’s cheek and he blew a raspberry at her, earning a chuckle from Gold. “I…I have a child. A daughter.” She cleared her throat, suddenly avoiding Gold’s gaze. 

His stomach dropped slightly. A daughter. Belle had a daughter—most likely with her fiancé. The sudden vision of her happily holding a child while some tall, dark, and handsome youth kissed the top of her head nearly made him sick. 

“What’s her name?” Gold asked quietly, trying to banish the image.

“Audrey,” Belle replied with a quiet smile. “She’s four. Bit of a devil but quite the charmer, not unlike Henry here.” She pulled out an iPhone and flicked it on, scrolling. She then offered her phone to Gold. He took it—a little girl gazed solemnly back at him. She looked exactly like Belle, the same angles in her face, dark curls, and bright blue eyes. The only difference was the expression of grave solemnity on the four-year-old’s face, as if she were contemplating the secrets of the universe. The expression made him laugh. 

“She’s got a thing about smiling,” Belle explained, looking delighted at Gold’s chuckle. “You have to sort of work for her smiles.”

Gold was about to respond when her phone lit up, buzzing in his hand. The screen flashed a picture of swarthy looking young man with dark hair and a glinting smile. The phone read, GREG CALLING.

“Sorry,” Belle flushed and trading the phone for Henry, who did not look pleased about the transaction, his arms reaching back for Belle. She walked towards the window, a few steps away. “Hello?”

Henry grumbled at her distance. “I know how you feel,” Gold commented quietly to him, busying himself by playing with his grandchild’s fingers, trying hard not to listen. 

“What do you mean you can’t?” He heard her say angrily. “She’s been expecting you all day. She’s been excited. Greg, you promised her.” 

Gold pointedly stepped even farther away, trying to become increasingly interested in some of the pictures on the wall. There was a portrait of Emma and Neal at the hospital, when Henry was born. They were smiling with unadulterated joy—Neal’s arms encircled Emma as she cradled her newborn son. 

“What do you expect me to do?” He heard Belle demand. “I’m working right now, I have an appointment with—fine. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” 

He heard her sigh, shuffling a little, presumably placing her phone back in her purse. 

“I have to go,” She said, giving Gold permission to turn around. There was a deep crease between Belle’s brows and she looked unhappy. “I have to…I have to pick up my daughter.” 

Gold eyed her, attempting not to make assumptions. He wanted to ask if Greg—the man on the phone—would be her elusive fiancé. But he couldn’t quite work up the nerve. 

“I’d made arrangement for someone to watch her today,” Belle explained, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “But something came up.” 

She looked stressed, pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. “Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked. 

Immediately, she stiffened, icing over, and he regretted asking. “No, no,” She gave him a bright, entirely false smile. “I’m fine. Just one of life’s little unexpected moments. I’ll see you around, Mr. Gold.” 

And with that, she swung her purse around her shoulder, picked up the large wedding binder off the coffee table, and exited the room. 

Henry began to whine. 

“I know,” Gold replied bitterly.

XXXX

The following weekend, Neal called again. His son suggested they get fitted for tuxes together, as apparently Emma—or rather Mary Margaret—wanted to coordinate the wedding party and ensure everyone’s outfits matched the scheme of the wedding. 

“I know it’s kinda lame, but Emma’s mom won’t get off of me about it,” Neal sighed. “And I don’t really know anything about suits in any case. That’s your area of expertise. So—up for it?”

Gold enthusiastically accepted. After years of tension, fights, and awkwardness with Neal, his son calling and asking for advice—even just for tux selection—felt like a positive step in the right direction. Gold had been wrong about the wedding proceedings; rather than making things tenser, they had made Neal more friendly towards him. 

And Neal was right—Gold had a penchant for dressing sharply, even had a favored tailor. He coerced his son into visiting this tailor, a suave gentleman named Gustav, who looked a bit like a ferret. 

“Your son?” Gustav greeted them at the door, his small eyes glittering a little. “Marvelous. The resemblance is striking.” 

Neal snorted and Gold couldn’t help a smirk at the flattery. This was a rather blatant lie—Gold was of medium build, very slight, with angular features. Neal was taller, stockier, and took more after his mother in the shape of his face and complexion. 

“We’re just getting measurements today,” Gold replied, drumming his fingers on the head of his cane. “Tossing around a few ideas. My son is getting married, but we’ve a bit of time before any major decisions are made.” 

“Ahhh, congratulations sir,” Gustav purred at Neal, who glanced at his father amusedly. “And am I correct in guessing you inherited your father’s taste? Favoring Armani perhaps, or Prada perhaps?” 

“Uh…” Neal coughed a little. “Sure.” Gustav clapped his hands excitedly, disappearing into the back. Gold chuckled a little at Neal’s bafflement. 

“You were the same way when you were a child,” He remarked. “I had to bribe or threaten you to get you into formal wear. When your grandmother died, it was like pulling teeth to get you into a suit for the funeral.”

Neal grinned sheepishly. “You got me there. If I had my way, I’d just wear jeans to the wedding.” 

“Well, I’ve a feeling Emma would be amiable to that plan,” Gold commented drolly and Neal snickered.

“She is a jeans and T-shirt kinda girl,” He acknowledged. “But maybe it’s better we have you and Mary Margaret pushing for this stuff. I mean, when Henry’s old enough, he’ll want to know about our wedding and all that memory-making crap. Would disappoint the kid if we just eloped.” 

“Well,” Gold replied as Gustav returned, ushering Neal to stand on a small platform. “Just don’t let it get out of hand. Weddings are a celebration, not the main event.”

“Huh, that’s what Belle said,” Neal remarked. “She’s been a lifesaver, you know. Really knows her stuff.” 

Gold cleared his throat. “How er…how did you find Ms. French?”

Neal eyed him knowingly and Gold attempted to maintain an expression of vague interest. 

“She helped do Ashley Boyd’s wedding,” He finally answered. “And Ashley—you don’t know her that well, but she was bridezilla if there ever was one. But Belle was cool, calm, and collected the entire time. The wedding was really good, really beautiful, had this great inclusion about them not only being a married couple, but a family, what with Alexandra and everything. Emma really liked that concept, wanted to incorporate it—Ashley told her that it was Belle’s idea, and things snowballed from there.”

“She’s been completely great,” Neal added. “Smart, creative, fun.” He smirked at his father, as if he knew exactly what he was thinking. Gold attempted not to notice, clearing his throat in acknowledgment. 

Gustav began measuring Neal’s sleeves and Gold helpfully put in suggestions about the cut that would suit his son the best. But as soon as Gustav stepped away to scribble down his notes, Neal brought it up again. 

“You know, Dad,” He grinned. “You think you’re being subtle, but really, you’ve never been a subtle man.” 

“What do you mean?” Gold asked, his fingers twitching lightly on his cane. 

Neal sighed exaggeratedly. “Nothing, Dad. Nothing at all.”


End file.
